


By Other Means

by Tirlaeyn



Series: To Be Without Regret [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chiyoh - Freeform, Episode: s03e06 Dolce, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tirlaeyn/pseuds/Tirlaeyn
Summary: Dolce Fix-it: Will decides to take Chiyoh's advice.





	By Other Means

**Author's Note:**

> All dialogue taken from the script is the property of the writers and producers of NBC Hannibal. 
> 
> Though I do not recreate all of it here, you can assume that all the canon dialogue from the Uffizi scene passes between them.

Or

Will hurts. The cuts on his face sting. His back is bruised from the train tracks. Every step feels like knives through his feet. But nothing, nothing equals the ache in his chest when he sees the back of Hannibal's head, the curve of his neck, the line of his shoulders, the barest hint of softness that speaks of hair falling into his eyes. 

Will stands and watches for a moment, gathering courage and strength. He can't know what he will see in Hannibal's face or how he will react to it. His heart pounds with every step forward, deep and resonant like a kettle drum. 

Hannibal lifts his face to Will as he rounds the bench, lips smiling and eyes shining. Will’s heart stops. Needing something tangible, his hand reaches out and squeezes Hannibal’s shoulder. It's warm and solid, and Will sighs as he settles on the bench. 

“Good to see you,” he says.

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time.”

For too long Will has heard that voice in his own mind repeating words of pain and betrayal. To hear it now speaking words of love fills him with sharpened joy. He breathes through it, trying to keep his expression in the area of mildly amused and appreciative. But Hannibal’s face is a beacon. He can't look away, and he can't quiet the voice in his heart saying ‘this is where you belong, here next to him.’ 

As they fall into familiar patterns of conversation, Will remembers all the hours spent together in Hannibal's office resisting the urge to reach out and touch, to give in to desire, not just for physical intimacy, but for pure honesty. Now, as the walls between them continue to dissolve, it seems more absurd than ever that Will should continue to fight. 

“You and I have begun to blur.”

“Isn't that how you found me?”

_I found someone who hates you and someone who loves you, and they both pointed me toward the same place._

The irony of the truth of this pierces Will like a blade. Here he sits with need in his heart and a knife in his pocket saying everything and nothing to the only person who makes him feel whole. This man he loves and tries to hate. Chiyoh’s words come back to him as they have many times since she pushed him off that train. 

There are means of influence other than violence.

Hannibal speaks of freeing themselves from each other as if that is something that could still happen.

“We're conjoined. Curious if either of us can survive separation.” 

Is separation something either of them truly wants? 

“Now's the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking.”

Will nearly laughs at this. That Hannibal Lecter would caution anyone about rage and forgiveness or suggest that Will might keep himself from thinking are both equally absurd. All he has done is think, consider, analyze, justify, and rationalize. But Will sees it for what it is: an effort to place the decision in Will's hands. He accepts it.

“Shall we?” Hannibal asks.

Will reaches out, not with his mind or his knife, but with his heart in his hand, and he places it in Hannibal's. 

“Together,” Will says.

Hannibal freezes, looks down at their joined hands, and then up into Will's eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but Will steps towards him and leans forward until their lips are millimeters apart. 

“I don't want to think any more,” he whispers, then closes the distance, pressing his lips to Hannibal's.

Hannibal tightens his grip on Will's hand. His other hand finds its way to Will's hair as Will wraps his free arm around Hannibal's back, palm flat, pressing their bodies together. The kiss is tentative at first, but the tighter they hold each other, the deeper it grows. Will's eyes sting with tears. When Hannibal lifts their joined hands and presses them against his heart, the tears spill out, full of love and joy and relief.

When they pull back for air, Will sees Hannibal's face is wet as well. He looks into Hannibal's eyes, and he sees what he has seen there many times without believing it: love. 

“Hannibal, I-”

“Will, I could kiss you in front of La Primavera for the rest of my life and be happy-”

“But we need to get out of Florence.”

“Yes. Come with me to retrieve my belongings. I have papers for both of us. They're hidden in a safe place.”

Hannibal gathers his sketchbook and supplies into his bag. Will can't resist pulling him into one more kiss. Finally, they walk out of the Uffizi Gallery hand in hand.  
***

Chiyoh watches the square from her vantage point on the bridge until movement in the door of the gallery pulls her sight. Through her scope she sees them emerge hand in hand. They walk leaning on each other as if they are lovers, maybe tourists who partied too roughly the night before. Their eyes are shining. She can't be certain at this distance, but their lips look kiss-swollen. She trains the scope on Hannibal and strokes the trigger lightly with her finger, but does not pull it. She swings it toward Will and watches him smile at Hannibal and lean in to whisper something. They make their way across the square at a measured pace designed to accommodate their injuries and not attack attention. Soon they are nearly out of range. Chiyoh lets them go.  
***

Hannibal leads Will to Sogliato's empty apartment. Nearly everything is packed and ready. Hannibal retrieves the identification and travel papers he had made up for himself and Will the last time he thought they would run off together. Under Will’s envelope is Abigail's. He runs his fingers across it, still unsure why he has kept it. He snatches it up finally and places it next to Will’s. Everything finally together, he looks around, but doesn't see Will in the study with him. He hears Will's voice calling from the dining room.

“What is the _bone saw_ for, Hannibal?”

Hannibal finds Will standing next to the table. His stance is stiff and defensive, but Hannibal can't see his face. 

“The morbid plan of a desperate man. No need to worry your head about it now.”

Hannibal can't help grinning a bit when he says it. 

“My...Hannibal were you planning to saw my head open and eat my brain?”

He could lie. He could so easily lie and say it was for Jack or Bedelia or someone else. But he licks his lips and tastes Will on his tongue. Sniffs the air and breathes in Will's scent that he has suffered so long without. It is the scent of new beginnings. He takes a chance and tells the truth. 

“And feed it to you. An arresting piece of theater, beautiful and tragic.”

Hannibal braces for anger, disgust, maybe even violence. The peace they have reached is still so new and delicate. But when Will speaks again, it is with love and understanding.

“To finally finish blurring us together by consuming me and ridding yourself of the ache you feel when we're apart.”

“It wouldn't have worked,” Hannibal admits, to Will and to himself.

Will runs his fingers lightly over the edge of the saw blade. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. 

“I was going to kill you with this. Catch you by surprise and slip it between your ribs or pull it across your neck. I feel that ache too. I tried to deny it for so long.”

Will places the knife on the table next to the saw, and turns around. Hannibal soaks up the yearning and determination he sees in those beautiful eyes. They walk toward each other, drawn like magnets, until their bodies and mouths are once again pressed so close together. 

“I don't want to hurt you anymore,” Will whispers into Hannibal's open mouth.

“My dearest Will. I promise to love and cherish you from this day forward.” 

Will pulls away just enough to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“I am promising to be yours forever, if you will have me.”

In response, Will kisses him deeper and needier than before. Hannibal opens to him, gives him everything his lips and tongue and hands demand. 

“Oh, yes. I love you, Hannibal Lecter. You are mine.”

They kiss until they're out of breath, then quickly gather their things, and walk out of Florence. Together.


End file.
